


Fun and Games

by starhawk2005



Category: House M.D.
Genre: F/M, Ficlets, Het, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-22
Updated: 2012-08-22
Packaged: 2017-11-12 16:41:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/493438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starhawk2005/pseuds/starhawk2005
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>House and a Clinic patient, and House and Cam wind up shagging on the PPTH roof</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fun and Games

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Yeah, like I own them. I wish.  
> Author Note: Many kudos to my lovely beta katakombs.  
> This is my Ficathon #2 entry – thanks to soniced_up for managing it!

**(Fun)**

****

 

_Damned Cuddy and her damned Clinic hours_ , House grumbled to himself. He snatched the file on the next patient from the nurses’ station, and then barged into Exam Room Four, not even bothering to check the patient’s presenting problem first.

What greeted him was the unusual sight of a patient holding an animated conversation…with the blank space next to him. “-come _on_ , don’t you think we should see a doctor about this? It’s past time,” the patient was saying - to the air. There was a pause, while House stood in the doorway, watching this rather odd exchange, wondering if he’d get caught if he just turned and ran...well, _limped_ quickly, anyways.

Instead, he sighed as loudly as he could, hitching himself into the room and slapping the chart down on the exam table. “What seems to be the problem, Mr.-?”

“Reed,” the fellow supplied. _Odd, he_ looks _normal enough_ , House thought. He had his shoes on the right feet, his checkered shirt was buttoned, everything recently laundered (House could smell the faint scent of detergent)...

“My friend here-” Mr. Reed indicated the blank space next to him on the exam table. “He says he’s been hearing voices. Angry voices shouting at him and calling him names.”

“Uh, ooookay.” House said, nonplussed. But he decided to stay with this. Sure, it’d be easy just to send this fruitcake off to the Psych Ward, but then he’d get stuck treating another patient’s _boils_ , or explosive diarrhea, or something. And this was _interesting_ , at least. “How long has your ‘friend’ been hearing voices?”

“Oh, probably a couple months. They’re quiet most of the day, but then they _really_ start to shout at him as he’s falling asleep, which is really cutting into his sleeping time.”

_Hypnogogic hallucinations,_ House thought to himself. _Narcoleptic?_ _Not_ so _crazy..._ less _crazy than this ‘imaginary friend’ business_.

“Sounds annoying. Any history of sleep problems in the family?”

“No,” the ‘non’-patient said, “he doesn’t recall so.”

“Any history of mental disorder in his family?” House asked.

“Hey-” Mr. Reed addressed his ‘friend’, “-no need to get angry. The doc’s just trying to figure out how best to help you, is all.” He turned back to House. “Sorry, doctor, my friend’s a little, well, touchy on that subject.”

_I’ll bet_ , House thought. Deciding to up the ante a bit – just to see how impaired this patient’s view of reality really was – he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, leaning forward as he did so. “I don’t normally like to ask those questions, myself. But my colleague Dr. Knight-“ and here, House jerked his head back, as though he was motioning towards another doctor standing behind him – “likes me to be thorough. Otherwise, she goes and tells the boss on me. And you know how things like that usually go.” _Let’s see what effect me talking to an ‘imaginary doctor’ will have on Reed._

The patient merely nodded, as if there was nothing unusual about House’s behaviour, and then turned to his own ‘friend’. “See? I told you. They want to _help_ you.”

_Interesting,_ House thought. He pretended to confer with his ‘colleague’. “Is your friend experiencing excessive sleepiness during the day?”

“Yeah,” said Reed. “Even though he goes to bed pretty early and regularly. But then, it takes him awhile to fall asleep, with all the voices shouting at him.” Although House noticed that the patient – the _real_ patient, that is – didn’t seem all that sleepy to him.

“Does your friend ever find that when he’s trying to fall asleep, while those voices are shouting at him, that he’s also unable to speak or move?” House asked.

“Yes!” Reed exclaimed, “That’s _exactly_ what happens….and sometimes, he’s told me, he feels like he can’t breathe, either, during those times…. _damn_ scary.”

“Breathing problems? Yeah, that’d make me crap my pants, too.” House again ‘conferred’. “Dr. Knight would like to know what the voices say to him, when he’s lying there and he can’t breathe or move.”

“Nasty stuff. Calling him a failure, telling him he’s crazy, yelling at him about everything he did wrong during the day…” Reed was starting to look upset.

“Does he recognize the voices?” House asked.

“Sometimes.” Reed replied. “Sometimes they sound like his father. His Dad was a real bastard, would beat the crap out of him…now, c’mon, I’m just telling the _truth_ , here,” Reed said, pausing to ‘calm’ his ‘companion’.

“Uh-huh,” House said. The novelty of this was wearing _right_ off. Besides, according to his watch, he had only 2 minutes left until the end of his clinic stretch, and this obviously wasn’t something that was going to be solved in a couple minutes. Was this patient narcoleptic _and_ schizophrenic? Was he malingering? Was it something purely organic, somehow?

He stood there a moment, considering his options. He could send one of the Ducklings in – Chase was his first choice, as this would be a good way to mess with him, making him deal with Reed and ‘friend’, but Foreman’s neurological background would probably serve better – to take a complete medical history. Maybe Foreman could also give the patient a neurological exam at the same time. Also, delusions could be a complication of lupus or porphyria, so he could have Chase test for those. Although he wasn’t sure how Chase would be able to take ‘blood’ from an imaginary friend. _Guess he’ll just have to get_ creative. And finally, they could refer him ( _them_ ) to a shrink for a complete psychiatric history, and maybe even stick him ( _them_ ) in the sleep lab a few nights, just to see what was going on in that front, if anything.

Complex case, but certainly _interesting_. Unless the patient really _was_ faking it…but that remained to be seen. And even if he _was_ faking it… _why_?

“Mr. Reed,” he said, “I’m going to send one of my associates in shortly, to get a complete history on your ‘friend’. And to help us get a better idea of what’s going on, another of my associates is going to do some blood tests on the ‘two’ of you. Just in case whatever this is, is _catching_.”

Reed looked worried. “Are you sure that’s possible? That I could catch whatever _he_ has, that is?” Indicating his ‘friend’ at the same time.

“Well, it’s _always_ best to be thorough.” House said dramatically, unable to keep a little sarcasm from creeping into his voice. Forcing himself back to business-mode, he added, “Oh, and we may also want to get you two into our sleep lab. Again, just to make sure we cover all bases. One of my associates will explain everything to you.”

“OK.” Reed said, no longer arguing.

_Good,_ House thought. That’s _taken care of, for the moment._

*~*~*

  
 

** (Games) **

Soon after, House pulled himself slowly up the long flight of stairs leading to PPTH’s roof. Chase and Foreman were (almost happily) busy with Mr. Reed and _friend_ , as there were no outstanding Diagnostic Medicine cases to engage them at the present time. Cameron, although he hadn’t personally seen her, was soon to end her own clinic stretch, after which she’d without a doubt wait for him in his office, as had become their habit in recent weeks.

He didn’t quite feel like going home yet, though, his brain buzzing with too many insignificant details about the crazy clinic patient, about the other clinic patients he’d seen that day, about the diagnostic case they’d solved last week. He got like this sometimes - he’d ruminate over the picky little details of each case, mulling over them until he felt sure that he’d picked up on every clue there’d _been_ to pick up. And when he got in this state, which tended to happen once every couple weeks or so, there was only one thing to do. He’d dig a cigarette - only _one_ \- out of the bottom drawer of his desk, grab his lighter, and haul himself up the stairs to the PPTH roof. Hell, he even came out here sometimes during the _winter_ , that’s what a crazy old fart _he_ was.

Finally reaching the door at the top of the stairs, he shoved it open, and then limped over to the low wall that ran around the edge of the roof, leaning his elbows on it as he lit up and took the first drag.

He let his thoughts drift, picking apart a detail here, a clue there, a symptom _there_ , taking occasional puffs, leaning over the wall to watch the traffic, the pedestrians, taking drags every now and then…

He was about two-thirds done the cigarette, and the myriad random thoughts in his head had almost completed sorting themselves into some kind of logical order, when he heard the door to the roof being opened behind him.

He knew it was her without even turning around. The click of her heels. The muted familiar scent of her perfume, wafted to him by the breeze... “Dr. Cameron,” he said, glancing back over his shoulder at her.

“Hey,” she said, coming forward to stand beside him. “I thought you didn’t smoke at work. Then again, I also thought you never came up here.” She added, smiling.

She knew from a month of sleeping over at his place that he’d smoke at home, but usually only after very busy or stressful days – in fact, that sign was one of the most reliable ways of knowing when he felt he’d had a hard day - and even then, usually only one cigarette, and he often didn’t even bother finishing the whole thing. She didn’t mind it, terribly. Both her father and grandfather had smoked, and so she had positive associations to the scent of cigarette smoke...and besides, she knew that trying to get House to quit was going to be a lost cause. Or would be until _he_ decided he wanted to, anyways.

“I’m just full of surprises, Dr. Cameron.” he replied, taking a last deep drag, and then dropping the cig on the ground, crushing it out with the tip of his cane. He then glanced around to make sure they were unobserved, before casually put his arm around her, like it was no big deal.

He noticed her digging in her lab coat pocket, but thought nothing of it until she produced a small, foil-wrapped box. “Maybe I have a few surprises up _my_ sleeve, Dr. House,” she said, smiling and holding the box out to him.

He didn’t take it right away. He was too busy trying to figure out if he’d forgotten some significant event – her birthday? _His_ birthday? National Secretaries’ Day? – and whether he was about to get his ass kicked for it. “What’s the occasion?” he asked, finally accepting the small box, although he was _thoroughly_ confused by now.

“Um, well…” It was hard to tell with the light failing, but he thought she was blushing.

_I hope this wasn’t a bad idea,_ Allison thought to herself. _But too late to back out now – he’d never let me get away with it._ She tried again. “When I married Thomas, we knew he only had six months to live. Like I told you. We knew it was highly unlikely that he’d live to see our first wedding anniversary. So, while he was still well, we started having…well, _montha_ versaries. We got married on the 12th of the month, so every 12th of the month after, from the time we married until the time he… _died_ , we’d go out for dinner and give each other little gifts…” she broke off, a little uncomfortable under House’s intense stare.

_Isn’t this_ backwards? House thought to himself. _The_ guy - _me – is supposed to be the romantic. I’ve been going out with Allison for a month, and so far, I haven’t given her a_ single _flower, a single chocolate. Hell, I’ve barely even been keeping track of the weeks, here_ …

“You think that’s lame?” she asked, starting to feel embarrassed.

“No. _I’m_ lame. See this leg?” he asked curtly, starting to rip at the shiny paper. Trying to mask his _own_ embarrassment. A moment later, he was holding a GameBoy Micro in his hands. “Holy crap!!”

“Yeah,” Allison said, feeling quite a bit better at the look of surprise and pleasure on his face. And feeling emboldened enough to retort, “Don’t let Cuddy catch you using that thing…And you’re _not_ lame. In _any_ sense.” Ninety-nine dollars was a bit steep for a monthaversary gift, but it _was_ their first monthaversary, so that made it extra-special. _I can splurge on my boyfriend every once in awhile, there’s no law against it,_ she told herself.

“Stop it, you’re making me _blush_.” House said, putting his hand to his cheek with a dramatic gesture. “I might just get the vapours and faint.” And while he distracted her with this patter, in the back of his mind, an evil plan was busily hatching…who said he wasn’t going to give her _anything_ for their ‘monthaversary’?

“Faint away, but I’m not catching you – you’re way too damn _heavy_.” Allison said, grinning broadly now.

“Argh, how you _wound_ me, Allison,” he whined, continuing with the dramatics. He decided quickly exactly what he was going to ‘get’ her. Maybe not as _romantic_ as her gesture, but just as much _fun_ …and for two, no less. He stashed the console in one pocket, crumpled the torn foil paper into another pocket, and then held out his left hand to her. “C’mon, be a good doc and come treat the _wounds_ you have inflicted on my _delicate_ ego.”

Allison rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, you ‘delicate’?” But she took his hand, of course.

He knew the layout of this roof like the scar on his bad thigh. Back when he’d been able-bodied, he’d been up here all the time, and he knew every nook and cranny and hidey-hole…so he took Allison to the safest place for his little plot, a part of the roof that was far from the door (in case anyone else came up), and shielded from casual observers, and there was covering noise from the climate control systems and the traffic below.

Once he got her there, he swung her around and pulled her into his arms, kissing her hungrily. He was already hard with the thought of what he was about to try and coax her into, and he pushed his erection against her belly, letting her know what was on his mind...

She noticed right away. “Well, _someone_ ’s turned on. I guess getting GameBoy Micro as a gift is _foreplay_ for men, these days?” she teased. She had to raise her voice to be heard over the background noise.

He ignored her comment, he had more important matters to bring to her attention. “Ever done it in a public place, Dr. Cameron?”

It took a moment for what he’d said to register. And then, she was sure he was joking. “Excuse me?”

“Have you ever engaged in sexual activities in a public place, Allison? It’s a simple question. A ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer will suffice.” Boy, he was _enjoying_ this. And he hadn’t even gotten under any of her clothes, yet.

“No…wait, you weren’t thinking of having sex right… _here_?” she asked, her voice rising and becoming even louder on the last word. _He can’t be_ serious… “What if someone catches us?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “If we’re quiet, I doubt anyone would even notice. No one comes to this part of the roof most of the time. There’s no reason to. Lousy view, it’s noisy…c’mon, are you going to deny an old man the fulfillment of one of his all-time dirtiest fantasies? It’s our _monthaversary_ , after _all_.”

_God, I hope I don’t regret this,_ Allison thought. “OK, you win, Greg.” She paused, waiting to see what he would do.

She didn’t have to wait long to find out. In the space of a few short moments, she was pressed back against a brick wall, and House was kissing her, hard. She couldn’t decide what was rougher, the texture of the brick wall at her back, or House’s stubble. Not that it really mattered. His tongue was in her mouth, playing, probing, and his hands were all over her, sliding over her nipple and trying to tease it through three layers of clothing, and his other hand (she supposed he had propped the cane against the wall at some point in the proceedings) busily searching through layers of lab coat and skirt.

He wanted to take her clothes off, but he supposed that would be _way_ too risky. _She_ might be a public-place-sex virgin, but _he_ wasn’t, and the last time he’d done something similar to this, he hadn’t been a cripple. But that _didn’t_ mean that he had any intention of passing up his favourite sexual activities, just because clothing had to stay on as much as possible.

He moved his lips to Allison’s throat, kissing the hollow, and then exploring each side of her neck with softly biting lips…she was moaning softly (although he couldn’t hear it, he could feel the vibrations along her throat), pressing herself against him, gasping a little whenever he gave her captive nipple a harder squeeze, and they both groaned ( _just_ loud enough to be heard over the background noise) when his other hand finally located its goal. She was already slippery, and he let his fingertips play there a few moments, skating along her folds and ridges, dipping shallowly inside her, and then moving back out, finding her heated button and giving it a few teasing little brushes.

“House!” she gasped. Or, he supposed that was what she had said, he couldn’t make it out clearly over the ambient noise.

Her legs were shaking, and even through their combined clothing, she could’ve sworn that she felt the heat of his arousal like a brand against her belly. When he suddenly backed away from her, taking his hands with him, she bit off a disappointed groan, watching him taste the fingers that had just been inside her, watching him watch her with his impossibly blue eyes.

She continued to observe him, wondering what he was up to, as he shuffled over to the wall next to her. He had indeed parked his cane against the wall earlier, and now he grabbed it, using it and the wall to lower himself to a seated position, his back pressed against the bricks and his legs stretched out in front of him.

It was a bit uncomfortable to sit like that, but House had a little distraction planned for himself. “C’mere,” he said, reaching out to guide Allison, until he had her right where he wanted her. Which was standing over him, her legs spread a bit and her feet on either side of each of his thighs. _Good_ , he thought. He reached up, hooking his hands over her hipbones, and then drew her forward. “Squat down a bit.” he said, then repeating himself a bit louder when he said it too quietly to be understood, at first.

Allison had no clue what House was up to, but she knew better than to argue. So she only braced her palms against the rough brick wall, spread her feet a bit farther for added balance, and bent her knees until she felt House’s hands stop her descent. “Right there,” he said, approval in his voice. And then she felt him pushing her lab coat and skirt up and aside, and then the heat of his mouth against the fabric of her panties, and she knew exactly why he’d wanted her crotch-level with his face.

He let his hands brush over her legs, trying to avoid catching his calluses on the material of her stockings, and felt very glad that she was wearing stay-ups today. He moved to sweep his fingers next along the bare flesh between stockings and panties, feeling her shudder against him. His mouth pressed against the soft fabric of her underwear, he breathed her in, and then began pressing kisses against the fabric barrier, noticing how damp it was already. But he was feeling too impatient to tease her for long, pushing her panties to the side and sliding his tongue right between and into her, putting his hands underneath her bottom and trying to take some of the pressure off her knees and feet as she swayed a little above him.

As always, the burn of his stubble on her most sensitive skin was somehow both uncomfortable and arousing, and the feel of his tongue, sliding up and down, and occasionally pressing inside her, had her moaning and pushing herself harder against his mouth.

He switched his attention to her throbbing little clit, tormenting it with a series of short sucks, feeling her shuddering increase. In some ways, he loved this even more than genital sex. There was a certain intimacy about having a woman’s most private parts throbbing against your lips, not to mention the added attractions of taste and scent (oral-fixated that he was), that made this one of his favourite bedroom – and, he supposed, now _outdoor_ – activities.

Although this was highly _delicious_ , Allison knew there was no way she could have an orgasm in this awkward position. And she was afraid her knees would give way and, despite the support of House’s hands, that she’d fall right onto his thighs, the good and the bad. So the next time he pulled back for air, she backed up, letting her clothing fall back into place (although her panties were still scrunched up against the inside of one leg), and she knelt down, his legs still between hers, reaching for his zipper.

He hadn’t quite been finished in his enjoyment of her, but he wasn’t about to complain, biting his lip for control as she got his jeans undone and her hands cupped his hard-on through his boxers. She bent over him, and his head rolled slowly back and forth against the wall, his eyes closing of their own accord as Allison shoved down the waistband of his boxers and took the head of his cock into her soft warm mouth.

Allison closed her own eyes, the better to enjoy the feel and taste and scent of him. He was salty, hot and throbbing, the veins on the surface rubbing teasingly against her lips as she slid her mouth back and forth along his shaft, letting her tongue caress the head, sampling the droplets leaking slowly from the tip.

House, eyes still closed, let one of his hands find Allison’s shoulder, and then he slid it up to cup her cheek, stroking the soft skin with his thumb, drinking that in with all the other sensations, hoping he’d be able to last just a few more moments…

Allison could feel that he was hard as marble beneath the surprisingly soft skin of his shaft, and so she wasn’t surprised when he soon put both hands on her shoulders and eased her back and off of him. She watched in amusement as he dug in his back pocket for his wallet, extracting a condom and holding it out to her. She never ceased to find it amusing that he always carried one with him, but the one time she had questioned him about it, he’d only given her a lecherous look and said “Chance favours the prepared _dick_ , Dr. Cameron.”

House waited while Allison sheathed him in latex, and then he reached out, grasping her hips and guiding her down onto him. He watched her throw her head back as the head of his shaft squeezed into her tight little hole, gritting his own teeth as her heat surrounded him, intensified by the layers of lab coat and skirt draped over them and hiding their connection, holding the warmth in.

Allison let herself slide all the way down, taking him in fully, and then she shifted her legs around a bit, trying to crouch over him so that she could take control of the thrusts…clenching her inner muscles around him and feeling him jerk in response.

She didn’t have the patience for _slowly_ , right now, so she started thrusting herself hard against him, holding onto the lapels of his blazer for added leverage, shifting her hips so that she could shove her clit hard against his pubic bone with every thrust. She rapidly sped up her pace, enjoying the feel of him stretching her with each inward thrust, the feel of him hard as steel and burning hot inside her.

House couldn’t hear her gasping over the ambient noise levels, but he could feel the pressure of her breaths on his face, and then her teeth and jaw clenched as she tried to work herself toward orgasm. He did his best to help her, removing one hand from her hips and sliding it down under the layers of clothing and around his own erection, draping his hand in such a way that her clit would contact the rough shelf of his knuckles on each downward thrust, and he slid his other hand up to rub circles against her nipple, through the layers of fabric that separated his flesh from hers.

House’s little tricks added a new dimension of sensation, and it didn’t take long for Allison to reach the edge, her face and neck and chest heating up with her arousal, a white-hot rush of feeling spiraling in her sex and belly, and she soon cried out sharply and came, collapsing into House’s waiting arms as her muscles pulsed and quivered and gave way.

Her body was sucking at him, drawing on him, and he was more than ready to follow her with his own climax, so he gave a few hard upward thrusts of his own, ignoring the warning pains in his thigh, and exploded into Allison’s body, crying out himself…

He recovered quickly from his climax, glancing around to make sure that they hadn’t been discovered. The coast was clear, so he allowed himself to sit there a few more minutes, holding Allison against him as they rested, gathering the energy to get up.

They finally rose to their feet, cleaning themselves off (Allison producing a few crumpled but clean Kleenexes from the pockets of her lab coat), and readjusting their clothing.

Finally ready to go home, House twirled his cane and motioned Allison ahead of him. “Aren’t I the most _thoughtful_ and _romantic_ of boyfriends?” he asked, trying to keep a straight face. “I gave you _two_ ‘monthaversary’ gifts – we dealt with your pesky public-place-sex-virginity, _and_ I gave you an orgasm. _You,_ however, only gave me _one_ gift. That means you owe me _double_ for our next monthaversary.”

“As I recall, I wasn’t the _only_ one to have an orgasm, so I don’t think I _owe_ you as much as you _claim_ I do.” Allison shot back at him, laughing and shaking her head. “Still,” she added, recalling his earlier question, “I can truthfully say that no one’s ever given me a gift like _that_ before. So you’re certainly a _unique_ boyfriend.”

“I’m glad you think so. Care to come home with me, beautiful, and show me some more _appreciation_ for my _uniqueness_?”

“I’m sure we can arrange something.” Allison said, rolling her eyes. _Such a one-track mind he has._

****“That’s good. I’m gonna need more _inspiration_ for my future ‘gifts’. Twelve guaranteed ‘ultra-special performances’ a year is a lot of work for an _old man_ like me, y’know.”

Allison just smiled, shook her head again, and held open the door leading back into PPTH for her lover. “I’m sure you’ll come up with _something_. But we’d better feed you first, so you’ll have enough energy…”

 

  



End file.
